


What's Mine Is Yours

by sorbriquette



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: 99 percent canon compliant, I also hate AO3 for not letting me use the percentage symbol, Look at how far I've fallen, M/M, Oneshot, Soft fluffy bullshit, alarmingly long for not a lot of plot, i know I hate me for it too, i took some liberties with lore for the sake of romance, magical marriage proprosal, what is this fluffy BS im writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 03:37:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14946860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorbriquette/pseuds/sorbriquette
Summary: Basically, I took a shot at the marriage proposal fic shit. Obviously, a magical marriage proposal cause Simon Snow is still a mage even without his magic. Also a lot of just their day to day lives and being cute and soft





	What's Mine Is Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Cheers to my betas for helping with this. (Any errors are 1000% NOT their fault I did a second edit with a bunch of changes after I gave it to them, so I alone must shoulder the credit for my mistakes.)  
> All their help is greatly appreciated <3  
> basic-banshee.tumblr.com  
> bpitchbitch.tumblr.com  
> esabettie.tumblr.com  
> nympahdcra.tumblr.com  
> \--  
> Also re: all the unanswered comments I have, I'll be making my way through those tonight. Thanks, everyone for all your support surrounding my exams and such. I apologise for ignoring you all (because admittedly that is what I was doing) if it helps I also ignored my mother, my boss and all my friends. I am not a nice person around exam time, but I love and appreciate you all, so sorry for the delay in replies <3

**Baz**

I wake to the smell of cinnamon and apple.

 

It's the weekend.

 

Simon _always_ bakes on the weekend.

 

I feel the mattress dent as he perches on the edge of the bed, blinking slowly up at him as I come out of a haze of sleep. It always goes like this, waking up to Simon Snow offering me a piece of whatever it is he's made this morning.

 

I don't ask what it is. I don't need to. It's always good.

 

He presses something soft and spongey to my lips and I oblige him, opening them.

 

It's good but I knew it would be already.

 

I lick his fingers clean like I always do. Showing him how much I appreciate it.

 

I grab his arm and kiss a line up it. He's standing there in his trackies and an apron, what else can I be expected to do?

 

I tug him into bed with me, careful of his wings, like he's careful of my teeth when he feeds me. It's all a well-rehearsed system we have, it flows even better than we did in the old days at Watford.

 

He's got the batter of whatever he was making dotted across his face and neck like he always does.

 

I press my lips to his face everywhere he's gotten it like _I_ always do.

 

He gives an appreciative hum. "Morning, darling."

 

"Good morning, love," I say, placing a final kiss against his lips. "Did you remember to turn off the oven this time?"

 

He never does remember to turn it off. It's for the best too. I'd never get out of bed if he didn't leave first to go turn it off.

 

He groans. "It's fine. It'll keep us warm."

 

"Snow, I'm flammable."

 

"So?" He asks, snuggling in closer, curls cascading over my skin in the most delightful way possible.

 

"So, go turn it off. If not for the sake of my life then for the sake of the baked goods I'm sure you've left in there."

 

"Fine." He grumbles, hauling himself off me. "But only for the cake."

 

I wait a few moments, curling my arms around a pillow and watching him go. Just enjoying the sight of my boyfriend, tousling his hair and walking away in a fashion that can only be described as sauntering.

 

I'm still as hopelessly in love as ever. My only solace is that he is too.

 

I stretch out in bed for a moment, considering staying here until he comes back. But I don't feel like waiting and I can hear the faint jingle of sugar being stirred into a mug. He does that every weekend as well, makes my coffee. The Normal way, of course, it’s the only way he can.

 

He pushes mine slightly to the side of him when I walk up behind him.

 

I encircle his waist with one arm, slotting myself in between his wings and resting my temple on the back of his head so I can still drink my coffee while holding him. It's still piping hot, and he's put in just the right amount of sugar and milk.

 

I should say thanks.

 

I could say thanks.

 

I don't say thanks.

 

Instead, I sigh, "I love you," which is basically the same thing. "Have I told you that recently?"

 

"Only three times last night." He teases me, taking a sip of his tea.

 

"Wearing it out, am I?"

 

"Definitely not."

 

I smile at that, leaning around to place a kiss against the mole just under his ear. "I love you." I purr at him and it brings a little colour to his cheeks. “Even if you are the dolt who’s going to accidentally burn down our apartment one weekend.”

 

He turns his head to the side and takes my lips in his. "I love you too. Even if you are a complete prick.”

 

I squeeze him with the arm wrapped around his waist, chancing a glance at the clock. It's nearly 11 am. He lets me sleep in now, instead of throwing open the curtains and stomping around, I appreciate that.

 

"We've afternoon tea with the Bunces again today."

 

"Micah has a name, Baz."

 

He's right. Penelope didn't take Micah's last name and he didn't take hers. However, I don't know what Micah's last name is and I'm sure as snakes not going to call him by his first. Partially because I don't want to and partially because it riles up Simon.

 

"You should wear a suit." I say as he turns back to his tea and the cake he's cutting up.

 

"Maybe."

 

It's another plot of mine, taking Snow to afternoon tea. Not the little ones in cafes, the nice ones you have to dress up for. He can't resist a meal consisting entirely of tea and baked goods. I can't resist an opportunity to get him in a suit. It's a win-win really.

 

Also, after moving to America we _have_ to go to the nice ones. They're the only ones that are any good as far as I'm concerned.

 

Snow didn't want to leave Bunce when she moved over here to be with her husband. Wellbelove was already living over here, though granted in a different state entirely. I'd asked him what was keeping him in London, it's not like he had any family or any real connections there.

 

He just looked at me for a moment, long and slow and for once unreadable. Then he'd said. "You." Before launching into a tirade about why he didn't see that as a bad thing and I shouldn't feel guilty and that it was his choice.

 

So, I told him I'd come with him.

 

I don't regret it. Bunce grew to be one of my closest friends. Simon is here. I graduated university top of the class and I could get a job just about anywhere, so it seemed the logical choice.

 

I miss my family sometimes, Mordelia and Fiona and even my father. I miss Dev and Niall as well. We go back often enough though. For Christmas and sometimes birthdays and Mordelia's first day at Watford. Simon says I'm wasting money and we can just move back if I want to. I tell him I'm earning enough to do it (I am) and even if I weren't I'd still stay here with him.

 

I drain my coffee quick, pressing another kiss to his cheek, before heading into the bathroom to shower.

 

I don't need to tell him. He knows this routine as well as I do.

 

* * *

 

He did wear a suit to afternoon tea. Crowley, it was a sight. It always is.

 

 I just drank tea. I didn't eat anything despite Simon trying to glare me into compliance. I'm entirely sure that Bunce has already told Micah what I am. It doesn't mean I'm going to eat in front of him though. It took me months to get comfortable in front of Simon. It took me _years_ to get comfortable in front of Bunce and even now I still do it rarely.

 

"Go get yourself into something you actually like." I mutter when we walk through the door. Even though it pains me to know he won’t be in that suit anymore. I want him comfortable for this.

 

He turns to me, raising an eyebrow. He's gotten better at that. I think he practices in the mirror sometimes. "Make up your mind, Baz."

 

My lip curls a little at that and I roll my eyes at him.

 

He knows the drill by now. He brings me food and coffee on Saturday mornings, I return the romantic gestures in the evening. It's a nice reprise from the insults and teasing we hurl at each other the rest of the time.

 

"Where are we going?" He asks slowly.

 

"Just up to the roof."

 

He smiles softly and nods before disappearing into the bedroom to change. He doesn't close the door anymore, he hasn't for years. I'm a bit too preoccupied to ogle him right now though.

 

I am admittedly, very nervous about this. I've been trying his method of dealing with things, not thinking about it. That doesn't really work for me.

 

We did just come back from afternoon tea, but it was several hours of afternoon tea. It's dark now and Snow's always hungry anyway. So I grab an assortment of things, tea obviously, champagne just in case, sandwiches and sour cherry scones that Snow would throttle over if he knew how much magic it had taken to get them here and keep them fresh.

 

By the time I've finished taking them upstairs, Snow is dressed and he meets me out front of the door to our flat. Trackies, a tee-shirt and sneakers, why do I love this idiot again?

 

He threads his fingers through mine as if he's decided to remind me why.

 

 Everything he does he does completely, passionately, with a complete lack of restraint, even when he holds my hand. He doesn't just hold it. He snakes his arm around mine so our forearms are pressed together and he leans into me a little, tilting his head onto my shoulder and bringing up his other hand to rest of my bicep. I squeeze his hand and press a kiss onto the tangle of bronze hair on the top of his head. He's still clinging to me, even though it makes it a little difficult to walk up the several flights of stairs we ascend.

 

It's much the same as always. It's not the first time we've come up here to eat dinner under the stars. I did perhaps add a few fairy lights and place a short table by the corner, stuffing the space in-between with a frankly unreasonable amount of pillows.

 

Snow notices and looks up at me with those pretty blue eyes of his. "What's the occasion?"

 

"Why does there have to be an occasion?" I ask, leaning down to kiss him.

 

Really, it's not much, I should have done more. I should have taken him out for an amazing night on the town or made him dinner or planned something spectacular.

 

This is about as spectacular as it gets I think though. Waking up to him bringing me food, lazy weekends spent together and with friends, nights under the stars with the love of my life. I tried to think of something better, some grand gesture. I can't think of anything better than this though. That and I don't think he'd want some grand gesture.

 

I think he knows I'm dodging the question. He doesn't bring it up though. He lets go of my arm and dives headlong into the mountain of pillows. So, not an unreasonable amount after all, given my idiot boyfriend forgot we were on a concrete roof.

 

I spell the door closed behind us. I'm not in the mood for interruptions tonight.

 

I lay down beside him, watching him carefully to make sure he's not hurt himself, he seems fine though. His tail swishes back and forth a few times, not frantically or angrily, more like an excited puppy. It curls around my calf when I lay down beside him, propping one leg up because I knew it would make him do exactly that.

 

I produce the plate of sandwiches from the table he’d been too excited to notice had things on it. I momentarily pause with concern. He has already had cake today and he consumed half his weight in treats at tea, maybe he doesn't want bread right now. He does though. He begins to devour the sandwiches with vigour.

 

He's still a messy eater. He gets crumbs everywhere and forgets to swallow before talking. Micah looked a bit like he was about to gag when he saw Simon eat at tea. Penny looked a bit like she was about to gag when she saw _me_ looking at Snow while he eats. He's a mess but a bloody endearing one and I've gotten a bit too used to not keeping my features in check nowadays. Being more open. It's what he wants.

 

I take a sandwich too and slowly set to work on it. Simon smiles at that. I think he's still fretting over me not eating anything at tea.

 

"Tea or champagne?" I ask him, sitting up when I finish my sandwich. Snow's on his third.

 

"Champagne?" It's a question, not an answer. "Baz, what are we celebrating?" He asks again, curling his arm back around mine and half climbing on top of me.

 

"Nothing, which do you want, love?"

 

He rolls his eyes. "Tea. We can have the champagne once I've figured out what it is we're celebrating."

 

He relaxes back down into the pillows for a moment. I pour him his tea, adding just a spot of milk.

 

When I turn back to him he sits bolt upright, nearly startling me into spilling tea all over the place. "Baz, what have I forgotten?"

 

"What?"

 

"We agreed Christmas eve was our dating anniversary, right? It's only October." He's abandoned half a sandwich and taken to twisting his fingers together and raking a hand through his hair.

 

"You've not forgotten anything. Is it a crime to treat my boyfriend, now?" I ask, handing him his tea when he settles down enough to take it.

 

"Have I forgotten to treat you, is that it?"

 

I sigh and forgo making my own tea right now in favour of reassuring him. "Just having you here is a treat." I lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek. "And besides, you do treat me. You've not done anything wrong, love."

 

He doesn't look convinced. He continues snacking anyways, washing down his sandwiches with large gulps of tea. "Did you make these?" He asks me, looking dubious.

 

"Yes, I did."

 

He raises an eyebrow at me, I return the expression, but better. "They're good." He tells me.

 

"Thank you."

 

"Baz, you can't cook for shite." He says like he's caught me in a lie.

 

I roll my eyes at him. He's right though. I can't cook. It's one of the few things he's a lot better than me at. He lords it over me constantly. "I can make a fucking sandwich, Snow. It's not filet mignon."

 

"Filet mignon is not that hard."

 

"Neither is a sandwich."

 

We're not fighting, not really. Just some light bickering. It eases my nerves if anything. It feels right.

 

"Don't fill up on them though," I tell him. Not that I haven't already been convinced that much like a cow, Snow has multiple stomachs.

 

 "Why not?"

 

I reach over and grab the plate of scones. I had the foresight to hide them under a cloth. Snow might've failed to notice the food when he first sat down, but scones would not have been so inconspicuous.

 

"Because I didn't make these." I say, giving him a half smile.

 

I expect some kind of squeak of glee, maybe a nice snog. He just narrows his eyes at me. "Baz, I'm asking you one last time, what are we celebrating?"

 

"Nothing." _Yet._ “I thought we were past all this suspicion, Snow.”

 

I'm insistent and I push the plate of scones towards him.

 

He tentatively picks one up. Biting into it as if he's worried it might bite him first. A look of pure bliss spreads across his face though and he actually moans. I suppose it has been a fair few years since he’s had one of Cook Pritchard’s scones.

 

"I would like to maybe try a spell on you though." I add with a small shrug.

 

He huffs out a laugh. "You plotting bastard, you've been buttering me up."

 

Oh, speaking of. I reach over and grab the butter tray and a knife for him.

 

He looks at me for a moment. Hesitantly taking the butter from me. "You're not going to tell me what it is are you?"

 

"Nope," I say, popping the p and reclining into the pillows as I drink my tea, picking at another sandwich. "Finish your scone first."

 

"Just one." He says. “I don't want your bribery scones until I figure out what this is."

 

I quirk an eyebrow at him. "Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed you wanted your last meal to be scones."

 

He reaches over and swats at me. We’re at that point now, where I can make jokes about killing him and he has absolutely no doubt that I'm not serious. That I never really wanted to kill him.

 

He scarfs down the scone and seems to be eyeing a second one but pushes the plate to the side, sitting up. "Let's get whatever evil curse you've cooked up over with then."

 

I smile at him and sit up too, setting my tea aside and moving the sandwiches out of his path too.

 

Sometimes Snow is so dumb. Has he really not picked up on where I'm going with this?

 

That's probably for the best though, it mightn't even work. I slip my wand out of my sleeve and move a little closer to him. **"What's mine is yours."**

 

He looks confused for a second and I nearly deflate. But then his eyes widen and he's just gaping at me.

 

"Baz?" He says softly, and his voice breaks around my name. Tears are filling his eyes and for a moment I'm worried I've hurt him.

 

"Simon," I say back, gently pushing his curls out of his face, before reaching into my other sleeve and drawing out another wand. This one isn't mine.

 

I offer it to him, with shaking fingers he takes it. "Baz, what are you doing?"

 

"Shhh, love. Just try." I say, selecting a scone from the plate and holding it up for him.

 

He swallows for a moment and shakes his head. I gently reach out with my free hand and wrap it around his wrist, raising his wand.

 

" **Some like it hot."** He says, and I can hear the magic in his words. I can feel it too as the scone grows hot in my hand.

 

I hold it out to him and he takes it, looking at it in awe. Then looking at me in awe.

 

Then he drops his wand and shakes his head. "Baz, I can't-" He starts, stumbling over his words again. Trying to get them out through choked sobs and whimpers. "I can't take your magic."

 

"You're not taking it, I'm sharing it," I say, raising a hand up to cup his cheek and draw his eyes back to mine. "Like you did for me."

 

He's still crying but he doesn't shake me off. "No- I can't- it's yours."

 

" _Ours_." I correct him.

 

"Baz-." He goes to protest again, but I press a finger to his lips.

 

"Simon, don't you get it?" I pull him ever so gently into my lap, he comes more than willingly. I return my hands to his cheeks, brushing my thumbs over them to wipe away his tears and pressing my forehead to his. "What's mine is yours," I repeat, without magic this time. "My heart, my soul if I even have one," the corner of his mouth flickers up at that. "And now, my magic. It's all yours. _I'm yours._ "

 

And I am.

 

I have been for so long.

 

"I'm utterly infatuated with you. Endlessly devoted to you. I’m in complete adoration of you." I lean forward and press a gentle kiss to his lips. "I'm hopelessly, pathetically, immeasurably in love with you."

 

He’s smiling at me now, grinning even. Despite the tears still making their way down his face, I do my best to brush them away.

 

"Everything I have, everything I am, it's all yours. Magic included."

 

By now, Snow has figured out when my monologues are over. He knows. The second I get the last word out he grabs my face in return and kisses me. It's insistent and passionate and loving and everything he can't find the words to say right now.

 

When we finally break apart he's still shaking slightly. "Baz, are you sure?"

 

I take one of his hands in mine, prying it away from my face and picking up his discarded wand, pressing it into his grip. "Yes."

 

He's kissing me again. Soft and slow and gentle. A silent thank you.

 

I think maybe he's not yet realised what this is.

 

"You can change your mind. Whenever. It's yours. I don't mind being Normal." He says softly.

 

"You're not a Normal." I chide him. I wish he'd stop going on about that.

 

"I'm not a mage, Baz."

 

"You are. You deserve all the magic I have and more. So, take it. Even without it, you're a mage. You've always been a mage. That's why I'm _proposing_ to you like one." I emphasise those last few words because Snow isn't going to figure out what this is on his own.

 

His eyes somehow manage to widen further. "Baz, are you..." He leaves the question hanging in the air.

 

I don't.

 

"Yes." I take Snow's free hand, drawing it up to my lips. "Simon Snow, will you marry-"

 

I don't get the full thing out. He gets a tad over excited and tackles me back into the pillows, which I am once again so grateful for the multitude of.

 

"Yes." He murmurs against my lips. Then he does it a dozen more times. "Yes, yes, yes, absolutely. I love you. I'm yours too. Wholly, completely yours."

 

We stay like that, clinging to each other for dear life and Snow clinging to his wand. Words whispered between us over and over again.

 

 "I love you."

 

And

 

"Thank you."

 

And

 

"Yours."

 

* * *

 

On Sunday I wake to the smell of caramel and chocolate.

 

An indentation in the bed.

 

Something pressing against my mouth.

 

I part my lips and something sweet engulfs my mouth.

 

I suck on his fingers as he draws them out of my mouth. Grabbing his arm. Kissing the moles along it. Pulling him into me.

 

He's gotten food all over himself again. I half roll on top of him and kiss each spot of sticky sweetness. He usually doesn't like his pastries so sweet. This one's for me I think.

 

"Good morning, Darling." He murmurs in my ear.

 

"Morning, love," I respond, letting my tongue dart out to get a particularly stubborn spot of chocolate off his face. "Did you leave the oven on again?"

 

He groans audibly and makes to get up. I wind my arms more tightly around him.

 

"Baz, you're flammable." He reminds me.

 

I reach over to the nightstand and pick up his wand, handing it to him. "I know." I press a kiss to his forehead. "Come on Chosen One, time to show me how much of a useless excuse for a mage you are again." I tease him.

 

He looks uncertain for a moment, glancing anxiously between his wand and me, before pointing it out the bedroom door and towards the oven. " **As you were."**

It works, I hear the oven click off. I think Snow hears it too because he gives a happy little chirp.

 

Well, there goes my only motivation to get up.

 

He unties the apron and lets it fall to the floor beside the bed, snuggling up into my side instead.

 

"Baz," he says quietly. "Last night was amazing. You're amazing. Thank you."

 

I trace my hand up and down his back, not so much as a bump of wing remaining. I didn't think my magic would be enough to get rid of them. Somehow, it was though, even if it was a painful process for him to go through and painful one for me to watch. He seemed relieved when it was over though.

 

So no more wings. That will make things easier I think.

 

No more tail either though, that I’m a little disappointed about.

 

I don't reply. He doesn't expect me to. I've filled my quota of being soft for the next month at least.

 

"Baz, how does it work? The spell."

 

I give a small shrug. "I'm not entirely sure."

 

"What?"

 

"I made it up."

 

He frowns at me, but it quickly softens into a smile. "You made up a spell for me?"

 

"It was a proposal, I wasn't just going to use any old spell." And I wanted to do this for him, to give him back what he lost. To give him back what he sacrificed. He deserves it. "Besides, there wasn't a spell for it."

 

Despite Snow not being impressed by the idea of my mother defending my father in duels as a kind of proposal, he _had_ been very impressed by Bunce freezing time for her’s. No matter what he says he’s was always a mage, and I was always going to propose to him like one.

 

Also, I wanted to one-up Bunce. (Even though she helped me with this.)

 

"Baz." He croons out my name, coating his tone in affection as his lips brush my jaw. "You brilliant bastard, how am I ever going to match this?"

 

"You could go get my coffee."

 

" _You're_ the one who kept me here." He reminds me.

 

"Then magic it over here, wonder boy." I tease him back. I don't know a spell that would do that anyway. "How is it?" I ask slowly. "The magic."

 

"Warm." He mutters. "Not all fire and brimstone like mine was. Hot though, like curling up in front of a fire and snogging your enemy all night."

 

I raise an eyebrow at him and what I assume was meant to be a joke. "I meant is it stable? You seem to be able to cast more easily than you used to."

 

He nods, giving his wand, still clutched in his grasp a few experimental flicks in the air. "It's not so chaotic. I'm still out of practice, I doubt I can cast anything difficult, but the easy spells, they're fine. They're better than they ever were with my magic."

 

"Tell me if it leaves. Like I said, I don't really know how this works. If it has a time limit, or if it's permanent. It might have a range-" I'm about to press on about the many, many, unaccounted for variables, but he silences me with a kiss.

 

"Stop fretting." He says drawing away a little. "I don't need it all the time."

 

"It's there for whenever you want it."

 

"Baz-" He tries to argue.

 

I cut him off. "It's _yours,_ Simon."

 

"Baz." It's softer this time, not an argument, he brushes a few strands of hair out of my face. "You still want your coffee?"

 

"You don't have a spell for it."

 

"I still have legs Baz."

 

I run my hand along the outside of his thigh. "Oh, I know." I keep my voice low and sultry, but he just rolls his eyes at me. I pout a little at that.

 

I sit up and he gives a small whine of protest. "Where are you going?"

 

"To get my coffee, Snow." And his tea, I might as well make that too.

 

"I told you I'd get it." He protests, sitting up as well.

 

I force myself out of bed. "You get it every morning, Snow."

 

"Only because I get up earlier."

 

I frown at him and lean forward placing my hands either side of his hips. "It's not something to get defensive about. I appreciate it." I kiss him slowly and he grabs at the collar of my pyjama shirt, pulling me back into him, trying to pull me back into bed.

 

I have other ideas.

 

I let myself be pulled forward a little, wrapping my arms around his thighs and standing back up, taking him with me.

 

He gives a small yelp and his arms fly around my neck. I can't help but laugh.

 

He cuffs me around the ear. Letting out an amused if slightly disgruntled "Baz." Still, he holds his legs tightly around my waist and tucks his head into my shoulder.

 

I am a vampire, but Snow is heavy, and I don't trust myself not to accidentally drop him the second he tries to kiss me. So, I deposit him on the counter, grabbing down a cup for each of us and checking if the kettle is still warm, it is. Snow usually leaves it to boil when he comes in to get me.

 

When I look back to him he's watching me, he's got his head resting against the cabinet and he's just staring at me through hooded eyes, lips quirked up at the sides like he can't take his eyes off me. I raise an eyebrow at him.

 

"I should call Penny and tell her the good news." He mutters, scooping up his phone from where it was displaying the recipe he'd used earlier. But he’s still perched there, watching me.

 

I do check to make sure the oven is off. It is. That brings a smile to my lips.

 

I leave Snow's tea to brew and set about making my coffee.

 

_"So, how'd last night go?"_ I hear Bunce's voice on the other end of the phone. She opened with that, Simon raises an eyebrow at me. I shrug. I'd needed help, of course, she knew.

 

"Good." He says giving me a small smile. "Really good. I take it you already know then?"

 

" _Of course, I did, Baz made me test the spell on Micah."_

 

Honestly, why do I tell that woman anything?

 

I finish making Snow's tea. No sugar, a dash of milk, leave the bag in (heathen).

 

"Why didn't he just try it on you?" He asks Penny, leaning down to kiss me as I settle between his legs and give him his tea.

 

I don't have to see her to know there's a smirk painted across Penny's face when she responds. " _Wouldn't work. I think you need to be absolutely bonkers for someone. Head over heels. Stupidly in love. You’d have to be willing to give them everything you have."_ Simon looks unbearably smug right now. I take my turn to bury my face in his bare shoulder.

 

"Do you now?" He coos out. I hear the sound of ceramic being placed on the marble countertop and then there are fingers absently toying with my hair.

 

Penny plays along with him and I hate her a little for it. " _Oh yes, you'd have to be completely smitten."_ I'm glad I've not fed recently, or I would be incredibly red right now. " _Was that, all that happened Simon?"_ She presses him and I'm glad for the change in topic.

 

"You know what happened, Pen." Snow responds, releasing my hair to go for his tea again.

 

I press a kiss to his shoulder, then across the spattering of freckles and moles he has there, letting my hands run slowly up his chest, feeling his warm skin under my fingertips. Just enjoying having him here. Just enjoying _him_.

 

" _You said yes, I assume?"_

"Of course, I said yes. I'm pretty smitten with him too." I hear Bunce gag on the other side of the phone. I tilt my head up to look at Snow and he's gazing down at me with this dreamy expression on his face, soft partially hooded eyes a gentle smile tugging at his lips. "How could I not be? Sharp as a tack, absolutely gorgeous, bit of an arrogant prick."

 

I raise an eyebrow at him. He smiles back at me, still looking smug, but with a dusting of pink across his cheeks.

 

"My evil plotting vampire boyf-." He stops abruptly, and I frown at him. He's smiling at me though, his brows pulled together and part of his lip between his teeth like he's trying to suppress a grin. "Fiancé." He corrects himself like he's just now realising it. "He's my fiancé." He says again like he can't really believe it. I can't really believe it either.

 

I hear Bunce groan on the other end of the phone.

 

"He's going to be my husband." He says so softly I'm not even sure the phone picks it up. I certainly do though.

 

There's a hand under my chin, drawing my face closer to his. I come willingly. I always do.

 

"Yes, that is what you agreed to last night." I inform him as he leans down from his perch to kiss me.

 

He lets the phone clatter back to the bench top and slides his hands into my hair, holding either side of my head gently. "Baz, I'm your fiancé."

 

Is he really just now getting this? "Yes, Simon, I'm aware."

 

"Baz, I'm going to be your husband."

 

I consider sassing him again. But he's smiling like he can't stop. His eyes are bright and staring into mine. His fingertips are tenderly tangled in my hair like he doesn't want to let go but he doesn't want to hurt me either.

 

"Yes," I say again, softer this time. "And I'm going to be your husband, Simon."

 

"Yes." He breathes it out as a wistful sigh. He's just sitting there, not kissing me, not moving, just staring at me with a dopey smile plastered across his face. I hate to admit it but I'm entirely sure I have a similar expression. "We're getting married."

 

Penny decides to ruin the moment. " _You idiots know this is still on right."_

 

Simon flushes slightly and picks it up. "Sorry, Pen, gotta go."

 

I raise an eyebrow and I'm entirely sure Bunce is doing the same on the other end of the line.

 

Snow presses on though. "My _fiancé_ and I have decided we’re going back to bed." He doesn't wait for a reply from her, he just hangs up and lets the phone fall back to the countertop. He runs his hands over my shoulders to clasp together at the back of my neck.

 

"Have we now?" I ask.

 

His thighs tighten around my hips. "Can we, darling?" He asks drawing the final word out.

 

"No need to lay it on so thick, you know I won’t say no."

 

"Maybe I want to lay it on thick?" He responds with a smirk, letting his hand move to cup my cheek. "Maybe I want to show my fiancé how much I love and appreciate him."

 

I do scoop him up off the counter. His arm tightens a little around the back of my neck, but aside from that he makes it seem like clinging to me is his natural state of being.

 

"I already know, love."

 

He leans down and presses his forehead to mine, trailing the backs of his fingers slowly up and down my jaw. "Doesn't matter, I want to show you anyway."

 

It's a good thing I know this apartment like the back of my hand because he's so close and all I can see is him. All I really want to see is him though, so that's fine.

 

He giggles when I turn us around. I raise an eyebrow, but he seems far too enraptured in this to care.

 

I try to drop him on the bed.

 

Apparently, I've grown predictable because his arm is tight around my neck and he's hooked his ankles together behind me.

 

"That's no way to treat your fiancé, Baz." He mutters before leaning backwards and sending us both crashing down. Heads knocking despite my best efforts. He doesn't pay it any mind though he just pulls me into him further.

 

It's like those first few days were between us on Christmas before everything went to shit. Passionate, wanting, exploring something new. It's nothing too racy or heated. Just nice. Feeling his lips moving against mine, his hand tracing through my hair and across my skin and me doing the same for him.

 

It's not new, not really. He's the same Simon, the same boy I fell in love with all those years ago. It's just that now he's wearing a ring. A ring I bought him.

 

How did we end up here? A few years ago, we'd been at each other's throats, destined to kill each other, always fighting, even though I was hopelessly in love with him. Now he's my _fiancé._

 

Years of hopeless pining and hating myself for falling in love with my mortal enemy. Years of hating him for being so impossible not to love.

 

And then years of _this_.

 

Of waking up to his cooking and cuddling up with him to sleep. Years of insults that would have burned in our younger days being tossed around like jokes. Of carrying him to bed when he fell asleep on the couch. Of him returning the favour when I fell asleep at my desk. Of having to listen to his incessant commentary during movies. Of him pouting over me not eating when we go out to dinner. Of teasing and bickering and fighting, but fighting like couples do, over things like who does the dishes, not fighting like we used to. Of watching Snow come to terms with everything that had happened. Of seeing him give up on his magic ever returning.

 

Years of feeling like all that would one day slip away, and he'd realise he can have so much more.

 

It doesn't feel like that anymore though.

 

He said _yes_. I think that means he's staying. Now. Forever.

 

It all feels real now.

 

I start laughing. I can’t help it.

 

“Baz?” Simon asks rolling us onto our sides, so he can pull away a little.

 

I lean forward and press my lips to his forehead while I wait for the giggling to subside. “How did we get here?” It’s ridiculous really. The idea that somehow, all those years at Watford had an outcome that left us like this. The part of me that used to fight to keep my cards close to my chest has long since been worn out by Simon Snow. So, I just tell him. “I never thought any of this would happen.”

 

"Me neither." He says with a small shrug, still very close to me, his breath caressing my neck. "I tried not to think about it."

 

It sounds like an insult. I know by now it's anything but. I suppose that's another thing I never thought I'd get, understanding of the inner workings of Simon Snow's mind.

 

"Getting my magic back. Marrying you." He says the latter with a contented sigh and tips his head back, so my lips aren't on his forehead. So, his lips are under my chin. Because he knows I'll tilt my head down to look at him. I do. "It all seems too good to be true. Now you've gone and given me both."

 

My eyes flicker across his face. From mole to mole, his eyes, his slightly parted lips, the slight flush on his cheeks. "Simon. You don't need to not think about things. Whatever you want, everything, anything, just ask, I’ll give it to you. Say the word and I'll give you the fucking world if you want."

 

He shakes his head slightly. "There's nothing on my list anymore."

 

I raise my eyebrows at him.

 

"You're right here and there's a ring on my finger and I can feel your magic in my chest. There's nothing I want that I don't already have." He's taken to idly tracing his fingers across my stomach, under my shirt. "Is there anything else on your’s Baz?"

 

I shake my head. "No." This is all I've ever wanted. _He's_ all I've ever wanted.

 

"There's nothing you want?"

 

"No," I say again.

 

"Liar."

 

I wonder for a moment if I've somehow made a mistake because he pushes me off him and leaves the room. I frown after him, but he returns a few moments later handing me my coffee cup. I suppose he had to get it after all. Honestly, I'd forgotten all about it. He has that effect on me.

 

He fumbles around in the blankets for a few moments before retrieving his wand and casting " **You're getting warmer**."

 

I take a sip.

 

"It's horrible." Reheated coffee is always horrible. "But it worked." I add, and he gives me a glowing smile, the kind that still manages to turn my stomach in the best kind of way.

 

And then he pounces on me again, causing coffee to slosh all over me and him and the bed.

 

"Simon." I snap at him but he's nuzzling his head into my chest and his fingers a gripping my shirt so I lean back over the edge of the bed and place the mug with what little is left of its contents on the floor so I have my hands free to run them through his hair.

 

"Clean as a whistle." I hear him mutter, giving his wand a quick flick.

 

Nothing happens, lukewarm coffee is still soaking through my shirt.

 

"Is it gone?" I ask cautiously.

 

He shakes his head where it’s resting in the crook of my neck. "Nah, magic's still there. I'm just shite as always."

 

"We'll fix it," I promise him. "We've got all our lives to make you a halfway decent magician.”

 

I expect him to retort back, or to roll his eyes at me and my compulsion to break up anything soft with an insult. He doesn’t though. He just pulls back gives me that dopey smile again.

 

“Mmm.” He hums, his hand slowly making its way up my forearm until he entwines my fingers with his. “All our life.”

 

I don’t correct him. I don’t think he meant it like that but he’s still right.

 

I always thought Simon Snow would take my life.

 

Not like this though.

 

Now I’ve given it to him. Every last second if he wants it.

 

I hope he does.

 

I do.


End file.
